


Hope There's Someone

by lamujerarana



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamujerarana/pseuds/lamujerarana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Fantastic Four #500.</p><p>Johnny's hurt—physically and mentally—and blaming himself for not saving his nephew from Hell or his family from Doom's machinations. Peter tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope There's Someone

The kitchen of the Baxter Building is quiet. Reed's in his lab, brooding, Sue and Ben took Franklin out to Coney Island to try to get him to talk, and Johnny's sitting here alone, feeding Valeria apricot-flavored baby food as she sits in a high chair.

She’s lucky, Johnny thinks wistfully. She’s too young to understand the horrors that have been going on around her.

Doom used her, an innocent baby, to come after her family. He used her to scar Reed’s face permanently, trap Franklin in hell, torture Sue, Johnny, and Ben…they were all incredibly lucky to survive at all.

And Johnny’s leg—it still isn’t fully healed. Johnny had forgotten, before the flames of hell tore through his flesh, what it felt like to burn.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it now.

He hasn't been sleeping much. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees it again. Franklin’s anguished face as he was dragged into Hell by hideous demons. Reed’s frantic screams. Feels the sharp, agonizing burn of the fires of Hell.

Reed’s got some kind of doohickey wrapped around it that he says will make it good as new.

In the meantime, however, Johnny’s stuck walking with a crutch. He's used to flying. Now he can hardly make it across the kitchen without help.

He turns his head when he hears a rap at the window. Peter's hanging there upside down, looking at him expectantly.

Johnny doesn’t move. He doesn’t know if he wants Peter to see him like this.

Peter knocks again and calls out, “C’mon, Torchy, don’t leave a guy hangin’.”

Johnny drops his head, shuts his eyes, sighs, and reaches out for his crutch. Peter freezes when he sees it. Johnny’s glad he doesn’t have to see the look on his face.

He walks over to the window slowly, his crutch thudding against the floor, and flicks the locks on the window open.

He turns and limps away as Peter pulls the window open and climbs inside.

Peter pulls off his mask the minute he climbs inside. Johnny’s got his back to Peter, but he knows he’s staring at Johnny’s leg.

Johnny sits wordlessly and starts feeding Val again, back to Peter.

“Torchy?” Peter says uncertainly. “I, uh, just stopped by to, well, see how you’re doing.”

“Fine,” Johnny says. 

“What, uh, what happened to your leg?” Peter asks tentatively. “Are you—is it going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Johnny says. “Couple of days.”

“Oh,” Peter says, relieved. “That’s—that’s awesome.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything.

“So how are you doing?” Peter asks. “I heard a lot of stuff went down with you guys. Something about Doom?”

Johnny shrugs.

“This is just a random guess, but you don’t want to talk about it, do you?” Peter says dryly.

Johnny shrugs again.

Peter sighs, pulls out the chair next to Johnny, and sits. “Well, if you change your mind, pal, I’m right here. We can do other stuff, though, to take your mind off of it, if it helps.”

Well, that’s nice of him. Peter's a good friend, always has been. Johnny nods a little.

Peter sits there, arms crossed, and waits him out patiently. 

Johnny scoops some more of the orange baby food out with the tiny spoon, puts it in Val’s little mouth, watches her smile at him.

It makes his heart break a little.

“Reed’s face is scarred forever now,” Johnny says, tracing a finger lightly over Val's cheek.

Peter inhales sharply. “Oh. Johnny, I’m so sorry. That’s—that’s terrible.”

“Not as bad as what happened to Franklin. He's—” Johnny can’t get it out. It’s too terrible to say.

Peter puts a comforting hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “It’s okay, buddy. Everything’s going to be okay, buddy.”

Johnny shakes his head. His throat feels tight. “Not this time, pal. Not this time.”

“You know what I’ve been through in my life. I’ve been to hell and back—“

Johnny can’t help it, he huffs out a slightly hysterical laugh. “No, you haven’t. Franklin has. So have I.”

“What?” Peter says.

“Hell,” Johnny says. “Doom sent him to hell. I tried to get him b-back b-b-but I c-couldn’t.”

Peter’s face turns pale. “Oh, god,” he says hoarsely.

Johnny sets the baby bottle down. His hands are shaking so hard it’s making the spoon rattle in the glass container.

“I c-couldn’t s-save him, Pete,” he struggles to get out. He starts shoving his hands through his hair, can feel the edges of his mouth pulling downwards. “He was screaming and screaming at me to save him, and I c-couldn’t. I f-failed h-him and—and Sue, and I just. I w-wasn’t g-g-good enough.”

Johnny buries his head in his hands and tries to make his breath even.

Peter scoots his chair closer and puts an arm around Johnny’s shoulders.

Johnny’s whole body feels tense, because he’s afraid that if he lets go, he’ll break down and cry or something, and, oh, god, that’s the last thing he needs to do in front of Peter.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Peter says gently. “You did everything you c—"

“T-tell that t-to my n-nephew,” Johnny grits out. “H-he hasn’t s-said a w-word t-to anyone since he g-got b-back."

Oh, god. Why can’t he stop stuttering? Every time he so much as thinks about Hell, or Franklin, he just can’t seem to get a word out without stuttering.

“Johnny. You can’t blame yourself for that. You can’t blame yourself for any of this,” Peter says levelly.

Johnny lifts his head and gives him a look. “This from you? You're like the poster boy for blaming yourself for stuff that's not your fault.”

Peter snorts. “Okay, okay, you got me. I do the self-blame thing too. But you always talk me down from it. So let me do the same for you this time, yeah?”

Johnny rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer.

“Blaming yourself’s not the way to go, dude. All it gets you is a one-way ticket to a therapist’s couch. You’re better than that, Johnny. This isn’t your fault. Be emotionally healthy and accept it.”

Johnny’s shoulders sag. “I dunno if I can, Pete,” he admits. “Every time I look at Franklin, I just—“ He presses his lips together and shakes his head.

"It'll get easier with time. He's young. Kids bounce back fast from this sort of thing."

"Yeah," Johnny says, like he doesn't believe him.

"You went into Hell for him, Johnny," Peter continues. "He's not going to forget that. It was brave." 

"Stupid, you mean," Johnny mutters.

"I meant what I said," Peter tells him.

Val starts to fidget.

"I have to put her down for a nap," Johnny says.

He gets to his feet but it's too unsteady. He leans heavily against the table. Peter gets to his feet instantly to help him. Johnny twists free of his grasp. "I'm fine," he barks. "I don't need _help_!"

Peter holds his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, sheesh." His eyes flick over to Val. "Can I at least help carry her?"

It actually is incredibly annoying to have to carry Val while he's using his crutch. No free hands, and he's a little unsteady, so he's always afraid he'll drop her.

"Fine," Johnny says gruffly, and clomps towards the door.

* * *

It takes him a long time to get up the stairs. Johnny's so slow now. He hates it. 

Peter doesn't complain. Just trails behind him, Val resting on one hip.

* * *

Johnny spends about fifteen minutes changing Val's diaper and rocking her to sleep.

Peter waits through the whole thing, even though Johnny tells him he doesn't have to hang around. Pete's probably got important things to do. He doesn't need to be wasting his time on Johnny.

"Johnny," Peter says after the third time, "I'm not leaving."

Johnny feels a surge of gratitude, but he doesn't say anything.

* * *

The door clicks shut once Val's fast asleep in her crib. 

Johnny stares down at his bare feet and says quietly, "So what now?"

"I dunno," Peter says. "What do you want to do? Anything, okay?"

Johnny shrugs. "I don't feel like doing anything, Pete."

Lately he most of the time kind of sits around in his room and broods and hates himself not saving Franklin.

"Let's watch _Star Wars_ ," Peter suggests, rubbing his hand against Johnny's arm. "That sounds fun, right?"

* * *

They go watch it on the TV in Johnny's bedroom. It's easier on Johnny than sitting in the den. He can stretch out his leg without it hurting.

Peter sprawls out next to him and seems to enjoy the hell out of the movie.

Johnny hardly pays attention. He smiles whenever Peter says anything to him, but he's not listening.

The end credits roll and Johnny doesn't even.

"Okay," Peter says, flicking the TV off. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to talk some more?"

Johnny shakes his head. "No. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't want to think about it. I wish it'd never happened."

Peter sighs and reaches down to twine his fingers through Johnny's. "Okay," he says. "Whatever you need, pal."

Johnny squeezes Peter's hand. He can feel Peter watching him, but he just ignores him and stares up at the ceiling. 

He's a little surprised when Peter scoots closer and puts an arm across Johnny's chest. "Is this okay?" he says. "Or too much?"

Johnny turns his face away and watches the stars he can see glimmering through his badly-shut curtains. "No," he says. "It's fine, Pete."

* * *

"How do you deal with it?" Johnny ventures into the dark, not long after. 

Peter lifts his head. "Deal with what?" he asks a little sleepily. Johnny's been listening to him breathe, and he could tell that Peter was a little bit drifting off.

"Feeling like a failure," Johnny asks. "I'm not used to this, y'know, and I just." He swallows thickly. "I don't know how to handle this. My family's hurt because I wasn't good enough, and I don't know what to do."

"We settled this, I thought," Peter says, smothering a yawn as he props himself up on his elbow and frowns down at Johnny. "It wasn't your fault."

"Right," Johnny says, averting his eyes.

"Hey," Peter says, tilting Johnny's face back towards him. He doesn't move his hand away. It lingers on Johnny's cheek, his thumb stroking along Johnny's cheekbone. "Look at me for a second." Johnny tries, but he can't see his face very well in the dark. "That kid's your flesh and blood. You love him like he's yours. You'd never let anything happen to him. Your leg got fried because you love him. Johnny, you're one of the bravest people I know. C'mon. You're better than this. You're better than me.Don't do this to yourself."

One corner of Johnny's mouth pulls upwards. "Better than you, huh?"

"In that you're more emotionally healthy," Peter huffs. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Really?" Johnny counters. "Cause it kind of sounded like you were saying—"

The rest of his sentence is cut off by Peter's mouth, which is suddenly covering Johnny's. Well. That's an unexpected development. 

Johnny wastes a couple of seconds. His brain stutters to a halt. In no time at all, however, he gathers himself together, thrusts a hand into Peter's hair, and kisses Peter back _hard_.

They kiss for what feels like a long time. Well. Climbing down each other's throats might be the more accurate way of phrasing that. Peter tries to pull back once or twice, but Johnny chases his mouth and Peter gives in, the way he always does when Johnny really wants something.

When Peter finally does manage to wrench his mouth away, Johnny says breathlessly, "Hey, I thought of something that might cheer me up, and you're just the guy to help."

"Let me guess," Peter says wryly. Johnny can't see his face, but he's pretty sure he's rolling his eyes. "It involves sex."

For the first time since this nightmare began, Johnny grins. 


End file.
